Along these lines
by drinktherain
Summary: Quinn/Rachel. Faberry. The night you see those 2 pink lines, you feel your heart stop. Your world spins and you don't at all remember how you end up in Quinn Fabray's arms.


The night you see those 2 pink lines, you feel your heart stop. Your world spins and you don't at all remember how you end up in Quinn Fabray's arms. You don't remember sitting outside Quinn's dorm building for hours in the cold until Quinn stumbles upon you on the stoop, confused and bewildered by your presence. You don't remember how you tell Quinn that you're pregnant, nor do you remember how Quinn replies. All you remember, all that you know of that night is that it is in Quinn's arms that you break.

* * *

The morning you tell Brody, it rains. You tell him at the café across the street over a cup of hot chocolate. He turns pale and sputters nonsense that flies by you as you watch the crying of the city you've always dreamed of. There are people running everywhere trying to find shelter in the midst of the sudden downpour, and a young child hopping over puddles, laughing gleefully as he ignores his mother's frantic cries to get under the canopy with her, catches your eye. The mischievous glint in his eyes remind you of Quinn, and you feel a sudden indescribable longing that it makes your heart ache, and it snaps your attention back to Brody, sitting across from you still pale and still sputtering. You take pity on him. You remember patting him on the hand before leaving, but you don't remember what it is you tell him before you walk out the door. It doesn't matter, you decide. All you really want to remember from that day is how beautifully your city cried.

* * *

Your fathers cry when you tell them. They hold on to each other as they do, as the world seemingly crashes down on them. You hold your own feelings in, your own disappointment, your own fears. You got yourself into this mess, this is your fault entirely, and really, the least you can do is pretend you're brave and strong.

Finn, too, cries when you tell him, but he also yells. He tells you that you've ruined everything, that you've ruined any hope for your future together. You don't know what Santana is doing in your home that night, but you're grateful when she takes you in her arms, and for a moment, just for a moment you are allowed reprieve from pretending you're strong. Santana allows you to fall apart.

* * *

The day you file for a leave of absence from NYADA, you come home to find Quinn preparing dinner in the kitchen as Kurt rambles on excitedly. You are surprised to see her, pleasantly so, you find, and for the first time in the weeks since you've found out that you are pregnant, you realize you don't feel as though your life has ended. The zucchini Quinn is baking makes your mouth water, your stomach rumble; and as Quinn's eyes sparkles just so when they meet yours and her mouth curves into a smile, you finally, finally allow your hands to rest on your stomach, gently running the pad of your thumb over where you know your baby is. We're going to be okay. You tell her. We're going to be okay.

* * *

It isn't until a month later that you find out that Quinn has transferred to NYU and is moving to New York for good. You stumble upon the information when after a trip to the grocery store to pick up spinach and cabbages after your shift at the café, you walk in on Quinn and Santana arguing quite loudly. You don't hear much, only that you're all apparently moving to a larger apartment and Santana is insisting she get her own room as Quinn insists it isn't possible with the insane rent in New York City. They stop when you walk in, Quinn shooting daggers at Santana who looks glumly back at her, lips drawn tightly as though she's using all the self-restraint she has to keep from firing back. You are amused, but you pretend you've heard nothing.

News of the move doesn't surprise you, and you decide you don't want to know why Quinn has chosen to leave Yale for NYU. You know it's selfish and self-centered, but you don't care. Having Quinn and Santana around makes you feel safer than you have in months and little matters outside of the fact that you don't quite feel so alone when they are there.

It doesn't surprise you that somehow, Santana manages to find an apartment that's actually big enough for the four of you. Quim shoots her questioning looks all day but the secretive smile on Santana's face never wavers, and you decide you kind of already know how she managed to do what she has when you see the landlord's daughter. It doesn't faze you either, and you realize that nothing much fazes you these days. You are just so full of gratitude that your friends have all tried to help you through this.

* * *

You don't understand why the morning sickness doesn't only not go away in the first 3 months but seems to worsen further in your second trimester. You also don't understand why it is called morning sickness when it's in the middle of the night that you find yourself hugging the toilet. It is Quinn that rubs your back as she blinks blearily under the harsh lights of the bathroom. It's Quinn that makes you hot milk when you are hungry or tea to help your stomach settle. It is she that leads you back to your room, tucks you into bed and runs her fingers through your hair, staying with you until you fall asleep.

When you enter your third trimester, the nausea finally ceases and you find that you miss Quinn taking care of you in the middle of the night. The first time you sleep in Quinn's room, you cry. You're 7 months along and you're exhausted, lonely, afraid and just plain hormonal. You fall asleep to Quinn rubbing your back, singing softly, and in a sleepy haze, you think that her voice is one of the most beautiful things you've ever heard. Her voice lulling you to sleep that night is something you never forget.

* * *

The first time you see your daughter, your heart stops once again and your world spins. Quinn is crying quietly next to you and all you can think is that you don't feel anything at all. You trail a finger on her face, from her forehead to her nose down to her chin. You will her to open her eyes but she doesn't. You look at her, silent. You don't know what to do, you don't know what to feel. You don't feel anything, you just don't, and briefly you wonder how it is possible that you have just given life to this little girl and yet you feel nothing. Your life has been ruined by this little thing, this little girl that is yours, and you feel nothing. But then a hand clasps tightly on to your finger and just like that your heart starts to beat again and your world stops spinning. You know it's a reflex, the grasping reflect. You've read it somewhere, but that bit of knowledge does nothing to diminish the joy your heart threatens to burst with as your daughter responds to you. You'll conquer the world, you just know it, the two of you together, you'll make it.

* * *

The day you take her home, Kurt throws you a little party. It's just the 4 of you and your fathers, but Kurt has decorated the house with a smattering of white and purple flowers and balloons and has hung up a streamer saying "Welcome home, Samantha!" and you find that despite how tired you are, you are grateful.

When your fathers leave, it is Quinn you hand Samantha to as you get yourself ready for bed. She doesn't wake from sleep when you get back from the bathroom and without a word, you drag Quinn to your bed, and for the first time, you hold her in your arms. When you feel her melt into you as you both fall asleep, you think that now you aren't pretending to be strong anymore, and that it's your turn to take care of her.

* * *

The first time you kiss her, she's in the tub giving Samantha a bath. She is supposed to be getting the baby ready for her first trip out into the city, and you walk in to find her and your daughter giggling, shirt soaked through, soapy suds in her hair and water all over the bathroom floor. Quinn is holding Samantha up, and the adoring look on her face fills your heart with warmth and happiness and when she looks at you and pulls you towards them, you can't help but touch her lips with yours.

You are relieved that she doesn't pull away, and pleased that when you do pull apart, she rests her forehead against yours, holding Samantha between you two. You feel at peace in that moment, you feel as though nothing can touch you.

Your hands don't leave hers for more than a few minutes the rest of the day.

* * *

Kurt moves out of the apartment you share with Quinn and Santana and in with Clark, a boy he's seemingly fallen madly in love with, a few weeks later and you don't hear from him until Samantha's first birthday. He's busy with Clark, and you don't begrudge him for disappearing. They're in the honeymoon phase, you think. He owes you nothing and he deserves to be happy. You can't help but wonder though if Kurt's really forgotten Blaine, if it's possible that he's really over him. But it isn't really your business, and you decide it doesn't really matter either, not for as long as Kurt is still happy.

* * *

You do well in your classes. You perform with a depth and passion you've never before been capable of and you shine brighter than you ever have. You start to feel like your old self. You start to remember the unwavering confidence, the drive. The praise, the applause, the high, the calling of the stage, it is reawakened in your blood and you feel invincible.

Samantha grows beautifully. She is happy and bright and healthy. She doesn't sleep without her flounder plushie and can be captivated by Disney's The Little Mermaid for hours on end. She loves carrot and apple baby food and abhors squash. Central Park is her most favorite place, and Quinn has walked with her there, bundled up like a ball on many cold nights when her first teeth have started to grow in. You don't get to go often. You're far too busy with your classes, auditions, rehearsals and getting to know everyone who is anyone in the business.

* * *

You come home one night to Santana and Quinn arguing in barely hushed voices. You don't know what it's about and you really don't want to know. You catch only snippets and when you walk in, they quiet. Quinn is red, shaking. Santana's eyes are flashing and you can feel the tension, the anger. Santana starts to open her mouth to say something to you, but a look from Quinn shuts her up. She glares at you, stomps off to her bedroom and slams the door.

It startles your daughter and you go to Quinn's room, which has served as a nursery since the night you brought her home. You pick her up, kiss her on the head, inhaling her powder sweet scent. You sit down on the rocking chair, a gift from your fathers, trying to soothe her with song. She doesn't calm. You stand, turn on the mobile from her crib, trying to distract her with the lights and the colors and the lullaby that it plays. She only cries harder.

Quinn finally walks in and she takes Samantha from your arms. Quinn bounces her, getting her attention and at the sight of her, Samantha finally calms. She hiccups, burying her face in Quinn's chest, and you can't help but feel a twinge of hurt that your own daughter doesn't respond to you as she does to Quinn.

* * *

Santana is gone by the end of the month. You want to ask Quinn what happened, why Santana didn't even tell you goodbye or explain why she was leaving, but you don't. You are afraid she will confirm your suspicions that Santana's leaving had to do with you. So instead you ask her how you two can afford the apartment with both Kurt and Santana gone. She tells you you can't and that you'll have to find a new place.

You spend a weekend with her and Samantha looking for a new apartment. You only look for 2 days and it exhausts and depresses you. The last you look at is the only one that is within your budget, and is not, fortunately, in a dangerous neighborhood. The kitchen is tiny, many of the tiles have cracked, the paint on the walls is faded and most of it is stained the color of rust. It smells faintly of cat shit and urine, and the second you walk in, you turn back around to promptly walk out. Quinn doesn't let you. It's safe here. It's not too far. She tells you, gripping your arm tightly. It's the only one we can afford.

You take the apartment.

You're busy with school and it's Quinn who manages the move. You stay in your apartment for as long as you can, drawing out your stay until the advance and security deposits are consumed, until only a blow-up mattress and suitcase of your clothes are left to be moved to the new apartment.

You are confused when you walk into the building. It's different from the last time you were there—it's cleaner, brighter. You walk back out and check the address just to be sure. You almost pass out when you walk into your apartment. The walls have been repainted, the kitchen retiled. Quinn smiles warmly beside you, happily bouncing Samantha in her arms. I talked to the owner. Marshall lost his scholarship and he really needs the money. He's really good with his hands. She tells you. You don't remember who Marshall is, someone from one of her classes, you think. With the work he's done, they can finally increase the rent, except ours, of course, and all it cost was a few buckets of paint and a box of tiles. You don't respond, you don't know how to. She's done this, all of this. She's figured out some way to make everything better, and in that moment, you realize you're standing in your new apartment, your new home with Quinn Fabray—Quinn Fabray, the captain of the cheerios, is standing there with you holding your daughter in her arms showing you that she has managed to turn a catastrophe into a home.

Quinn makes your heart hurt. She makes it beat fast, she makes it stop, she makes it spin wildly in your chest. That night, you make love to her. You touch her with everything you feel. You kiss her with everything you're unable to say. You hold her with everything you fear, with all your gratitude and with all your hope.

When Samantha cries that night, it is Quinn that goes to soothe her. You burrow in the warmth that she leaves, and you allow yourself to cry from the intensity of all the emotions you feel but cannot name.

* * *

Samantha's first word isn't _mama_, or Rachel or Quinn—it's _please_. Quinn hits her head on the cupboard and you break the coffee cup you're holding. You stare at Samantha, eyes wide, willing her to speak again. She does. Please. She holds her arms out towards the apple juice sitting in front of her. Looking at Quinn, she says it again—_please_. Quinn laughs. The sound startles you and it makes you jump. Your eyes meet and you too can't stop the grin that spreads on your face. Your daughter is perfect, you think. Your daughter is _perfect_.

* * *

You spend more time at school than ever before and it doesn't surprise you when Samantha calls both you and Quinn momma. She and Quinn are asleep most nights that you get home, and even at that, you barely have time to have breakfast with them before you're breezing out the door again. You miss her, and you miss Quinn, but New York and the stage are your dream. Once everything settles, you decide, you'll have much more time. You have to make up for the year you've lost, for everything that almost slipped through your fingers.

You fail to take into account what Quinn has given up, the sacrifices she has made in creating this home, this family, this life for you and your daughter. All you think of is how you cannot fall again.

* * *

You jump out of your seat on the couch when you see Quinn come up on a new television series. You know she is taking fewer units that semester because of a new job she's gotten but she's refused to tell you what it is until that night. She has positioned you in front of the TV and finally, she shows you. Words fail you as your head swivels back and forth to the image of her on screen and her physical body beside you. Quinn, you manage to breathe out, Quinn.

She smiles at you shyly. "I never could sing as well as you or Kurt or Tana. But I've always been interested in acting…" You kiss her because you don't know what else to do. You're so proud of her, proud of how far you've both come, proud of what you have both achieved. Her eyes sparkle and her voice grows soft. "We won't have to worry about preschool," she tells you. You kiss her again to keep yourself from crying.

* * *

The day it all goes to hell is the day you see Finn Hudson again. It has been 4 years since you last saw him and the sight of him burns a hole in your heart, it engulfs your very being and it sets you aflame. You don't know what you are thinking. You feel possessed. You don't know if you are angry, if the love you once felt for him is rekindled or if being with him simply makes you feel powerful again.

You have sex with him that night in his hotel room. He apologizes to you, over and over, and you find that you believe him when he says he's tried to forget you all these years but couldn't. He wants to try again, you're end game he tells you.

You don't respond to him but when he asks to see you the next day, you give him your address as you slip on your shoes and coat to leave.

You don't know what you are thinking, what you intended to do, how you intended her to act, how you expected her to react, how you expected her to feel—but you tell Quinn. Her eyes rake over your body as you enter the door and the smile on her face is wiped as her eyes dim in worry. You look at her silently, willing her to see what you've done.

She is flustered and confused and she doesn't see, she doesn't understand. She pops a movie into the player, sits Samantha on the couch, tucking a blanket around her before she drags you into the bedroom. Her hands run over you, checking if you are okay and it's the first time you feel any sort of guilt. You tell her then.

She shakes her head but doesn't respond. She makes to speak but nothing comes out. She keeps shaking her head, it's as though her mind won't let her make sense of what you've told her, of what you've done. You pray she doesn't say your name as you realize in that moment that you're merely hanging by a thread.

She leaves soon after and you're thankful that Samantha has fallen asleep in the middle of her movie. She snuggles into you as you carry her into her bedroom. You know Quinn won't be home tonight. But you wait anyway and silently pray that she comes back. She doesn't.

When Finn comes in the morning, your make-up is perfectly done, your dress pressed, your hair in perfect waves. He brings you flowers and a pack of gummy bears for your daughter. He seems to like Samantha, and Samantha seems to like him. You want to cry when he holds her up in the air and she squeals in delight at being able to fly. You order Chinese because you really don't know your way around the kitchen, and Finn and Samantha laugh throughout the meal as he does impressions of cartoon characters. Finn slips his arms around you as the three of you sit on the couch to watch one of Samantha's many animated films. You keep yourself from flinching. Nothing has gone wrong, yet none of it feels right.

Only 10 minutes into the movie and Samantha is pulling at your hand. "Momma," she tells you plaintively.

You feel Finn chuckle next to you and you shiver as he whispers in your ear. "_She's a sweetheart_," he tells you.

Your heart clenches at the look on your daughter's face as she asks for Quinn again. You take her into your arms, whispering apologies and asking for forgiveness, words you want to but cannot say to Quinn. It takes you hours to get Samantha to go to sleep and even then it's simply because she's exhausted herself from crying.

Finn tells you you're beautiful, that you're brave and wonderful and perfect. And just like that it all clicks into place. A dam bursts from inside of you and you struggle not to drown in the emotions you've denied and suppressed for years. The freedom you felt the night before is threatening to stifle you. You can't breathe and you gasp as you push Finn away from you. You tell him to leave. He is confused but you don't care. You tell him to never come back, to never call, to never think about you again. He tries to speak but you don't let him. You push him out the door and cry harder than your daughter has in the short 3 years of her life as you sit slumped against the closed door.

Quinn doesn't come home that night. Nor the next night, nor the next. By the fourth day, Samantha has made herself sick from crying and at your wit's end, you call Kurt. You've been calling Santana and Quinn for days, but neither of them have picked up. You were halfway down the building just the day before when you realized you didn't know where her apartment is as you've always met outside for dinner, never at your apartment and never at hers.

You beg Kurt to tell you where Santana lives, but he doesn't know either. You beg him to call Quinn, but she doesn't pick up. You beg him again, this time to call Santana and mercifully, Santana answers. You ask him to tell her that Samantha needs Quinn, you bite your tongue to keep from adding that you do too, and please, just for the child's sake will she please give Quinn the message—to tell Quinn that her daughter needs her.

In the minutes Kurt is silent as he listens to whatever Santana is saying on the other side of the line, you don't breathe. You watch him flinch, you watch him start to open his mouth to interrupt her over and over as he ends up shutting it closed again, merely nodding. You can't hear what she's saying to him, you're afraid that whatever it is, Kurt's nods seem to indicate his agreement. You stay silent and you pray. If she'd just tell Quinn… Quinn would do anything for your daughter. Anything. Everything. Even see you again. Please, let her tell Quinn.

Kurt gives one final nod, says "Thank you, Santana," and sighs as he hangs up. He smiles at you sadly, tiredly, holding his thumbs up in a way that has always reminded you of high school and losers and glee club. It makes your heart clench now, as it often does, and you launch yourself into his arms. I've messed up, Kurt. I've messed everything up.

You can't bear to tell him everything what's happened, everything you've been feeling, everything you've done. You want to, you want to so badly but you can't. Words fail you as they have since the day you saw those 2 pink lines. He steers you towards the couch and rubs your back as you sob. "Kurt" you call out plaintively, clutching him to you, "Kurt!" He doesn't say anything, only hugs you tighter.

When Kurt finally speaks, you are reminded that night of what friendships are about. The truth is you've had so few in high school, no one outside of the glee club, and even fewer in college as it's always about classes and rehearsing and competition, and you are focused and afraid of failing, of falling again. And Kurt has been away living his own life, his own dream. But that night, Kurt reminds you. He gives you hope. He forgives you even when it isn't his place to do so. He absolves you even when he shouldn't. He doesn't tell you anything you do not already know, but no one has ever actually told you and as you listen to him, you soak it all in like the first rain after a drought. And you realize it is. It has been four years. Four years.

Samantha is still asleep when he leaves and the hope he has kindled in you gives you a sense of strength. The thought of seeing Quinn makes you slightly giddy but you try to calm yourself as your daughter's temperature is steadily increasing and you know it is only because of her that Quinn has agreed to come.

You jump when you hear a key go into the lock and you hold your breath as it clicks and opens. Her eyes are red, the clothes she has on are rumpled, her hair is in disarray, yet you decide she has never looked more beautiful in all the years you have seen her. You don't see anger in her gaze, just hurt and confusion. You want to prostrate yourself at her feet, ask for forgiveness, anything to fix what you have done; but then your daughter is coming out of her bedroom and she wails when she sees Quinn, and runs to her.

The crying doesn't cease, not for a while and it's as though Samantha is punishing Quinn for leaving as she had so many times before with you. Quinn is patient, she doesn't get rattled. With softness in her eyes as she looks at your daughter and the gentle ministrations of her hands, it is as though she understands, as though even your daughter's cries are music to her ears.

For the first time in over three years, with the two of you in your own home, you do not sleep together. She stays in Samantha's room, and you stay in yours, fighting to keep the guilt, the longing, and most especially, the tears of relief, at bay.

Samantha is much better in the morning, and for the first time in days, she finally smiles again. You wake up to her laughter; she is in Quinn's arms and Quinn is reading her a story. Your eyes meet briefly and your heart races as she smiles at you. But her smile is quickly gone. It is as though for a moment, she has forgotten what you had done only to have it all crash down on her as she remembers it all.

She doesn't look at you for the rest of the day.

* * *

It is exactly two months before Quinn says anything at all to you. You know because you've been counting. You haven't had a full night's sleep since before that night with Finn, and every morning, your first thought is a wish, a prayer that it was all just a dream. For a full 5 minutes when your eyes open, you will Quinn to walk in, to kiss you and tell you breakfast is ready as she's done for the past 3 years. But she doesn't.

She tells you she wants to take Samantha out for a movie that night. She doesn't ask you for permission, she's merely telling you. And she doesn't ask you to come.

* * *

The next time she speaks to you is 2 weeks later. This time, she does ask you for permission. She's seeing someone, she tells you, and she would like to introduce her to Samantha. There's a pounding in your chest and you let out a strangled breath. You realize you can't breathe, you've forgotten how to. You double over, gasping, and in the next instant Quinn is next to you her hands framing your face. She's talking to you, but you can't hear a word she's saying. Her touch is all you can focus on and you start to cry. You don't want to be crying. You deserve all the pain you're feeling. You've hurt Quinn and destroyed your family, and you don't get to be the one that needs to be taken care of. You try to stop but you can't.

And then Quinn starts singing to you, she touches your forehead with hers and she's singing like she did that night 3 years ago before Samantha was born and you can hear. You can feel her and you can see her and you can touch her. And she's crying just as you are. And you pray. You aren't sure what you're praying for, perhaps it's for Quinn not to leave you, or maybe it's simply for that moment when she's finally holding you again to never end. Everything ends, you know that, but you pray anyway.

Slowly, you get a hold of yourself. Her voice calms you, the feel of her against you gives you hope. "Please," you tell her. And when she starts to shake her head, you don't let her. You hold her head in place and for a second you consider kissing her. You want to remind her of everything you two had, everything you can still have. But you don't. You won't make her do what you've done. You won't turn her into you. So instead you whisper to her. I'll fix us. You promise. Just give me a chance and I'll fix everything.

* * *

It's the first time you really try to do anything in the kitchen outside of making coffee, pouring your daughter a bowl of cereal and slicing fruit. You don't even really make your salads because Quinn always seems to have something ready for you to eat. The past few months since the incident, she's still continued to make sure there's always something for you. So the first time you try to make pancakes, it all goes quite horribly wrong.

You burn yourself on the range twice, flour ends up all over the floor, there are eggshells everywhere on the counter and to top it all off, you burn the pancakes. Your "I'm sorry" cookies were never this difficult to make. You swear the kitchen is cursed. Or it's angry at you because you've hurt Quinn. You decide you'll have a talk with it later when there's no chance your daughter will hear.

There's genuine fear in Quinn's eyes before it is replaced by amusement when she catches sight of you in the kitchen. She reaches for the half burnt pancake in Samantha's hand. "Rach?" she squeaks out.

You blush. "It's just a bit burnt," you tell her. She looks doubtful and lifts the pancake to her nose before sighing and giving it back to Samantha who, you note, quite happily starts munching on it again.

She turns back to you, amused now, biting her lip. You know she's trying to hold back a smile. And just because she's Quinn and she makes everything better, you show her your hand, twice burnt. She pulls you to her, sighing into your hair. She holds you as nearby your daughter babbles on about mermaids and fairies as she stuffs her stomach full with your half burnt pancakes. Quinn whispers something to you, but you don't quite catch it. You're afraid to ask her, afraid she'll let you go so you tell yourself to be satisfied with her holding you. You decide then that you'll do anything to keep her.

* * *

The first time you meet Carly, you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You run into her and Quinn at the bookstore Samantha has asked you to bring her to so she can have the newest installment in her favorite adventure series. It turns out it's exactly why they were there as well, so Quinn can buy the book for Samantha.

Carly is kind, friendly, and most certainly gorgeous. She's tall, her muscles are well-toned, her skin beautifully tanned. Her hair shines when it catches the sun's rays, her eyes sparkle as she talks about a book you've never even heard of before, and her laugh in itself sounds like music. You decide she's just about perfect and your heart drops when you realize she's better than you and that Quinn deserves the best.

You are quiet that night and so is Quinn. She keeps looking at you like she wants to say something, explain maybe, even when she doesn't have to. And you're seriously considering whether you're capable of just letting her go because she deserves someone much better than you. You try to imagine life without her and you just about have another panic attack because no, it really just isn't something you want. It isn't something you think you can handle.

Quinn comes into your room in the middle of the night. She hesitates at the door for a minute before she gathers enough resolve to enter. She sits at the foot of your bed as her eyes rake over you. You feel naked under her gaze and you shiver in apprehension. You know she sees what you're thinking, how you're feeling and it terrifies you. You don't want her to see through you, you don't want her to see your insecurities and your fears.

"Why did you do it, Rach?" she asks you, her voice breaking at your name. "Why couldn't I make you happy?"

You don't know how to respond, because really, no one's ever made you as happy as Quinn has, and because you haven't really thought about Finn either since the day you pushed him out the door. You sit up, take her hand and place it above your heart willing her to feel how it races at her touch. You tell her the one thing you've never told her in the four years that she has loved you.

You tell her that you love her too.

You tell her about your shame. You tell her about the anger that's been coursing through your veins. It had become a part of you for far too long and the moment you had a chance to prove you weren't nobody, that you couldn't be forgotten, you did. You tell her you are stupid. You tell her it's the biggest mistake you've ever made. You tell her how her eyes dazzle you, how her smiles warm you, how her touch ignites your very soul. Most importantly, you tell her that you love her and that if she'd let you, you'd spend your whole life showing her exactly that.

She cries but doesn't respond and as you take her into your arms, your heart breaks at what you know you have done to you both.


End file.
